Varel was waiting for him when he returned to the hall. "Before we do anything else, Commander, there's an urgent matter we must take care of," he sighed. "Right now, I know of only one living Grey Warden assigned to all of Ferelden. That should be rectified." He turned his gaze over the three that had followed Faren in. "The others could aid you considerably."

"Let's begin the Joining, then," he commanded.

"As you wish, Commander."

He had the room cleared. Varel had been inducted into some of the secrets of the order, but it was best to keep certain things a bit more secret. Oghren, at least, knew some of what was about to happen. In the days of the Blight, they'd all spoken freely around each other. All of their companions had noted the nightmares that afflicted the wardens. He caught himself fiddling with the ring again.

"The time has come for us to begin the Joining. I shall speak the words that have been said since the first," said Varel taking in a deep breath. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you."

Varel presented the cup to the first of the potentials. "From this moment forth, Oghren, you are a Grey Warden."

Oghren took the cup, and then blinked. "What's this? The sampler size? Are you trying to say something about my height, eh?"

Varel just gave him a funny look. "Er… this is the goblet we've always used."

Oghren gave him a sceptical look. "Really? Huh." He drank, then belched. He actually licked his lips. "Not bad."

Varel sighed. "Maker help us all."

Faren just shrugged half amused and half bewildered. To be honest he wasn't sure any ingested liquid could kill the man at this point.

Anders was next. "From this moment forth, Anders, you are a Grey Warden."

The man looked almost fascinated. "So we need to drink darkspawn blood? That's it?"

"That is it, yes."

"Well all right, but if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on my forehead, I'm blaming you," he said and he drank.

Varel had to catch the cup as the mage promptly fell over backwards. "He lives, Commander, and will wake in time." He went to the last of the recruits. "From this moment forth, Mhairi, you are a Grey Warden."

"I have awaited this moment," she said, taking the cup reverently.

What came next was immensely present. A few seconds after she drank, she placed a hand over her throat and fell to the ground. Faren had only seen this once before during his Joining, but it was still an unpleasant feeling to witness.

Varel's voice sounded heartbroken. "I am sorry, Mhairi. May the Maker watch over you now."

He picked up her body, and carried it to where a group of servants were building pyres for the fallen. The orders he gave were crisp and clear. She was a warden. She would be given the appropriate honours.

He was hanging the second of the swords behind the throne when Varel found him. He glanced at the wooden monstrosity. They didn't expect him to actually sit in the thing, did they?

"Poor Mhairi," said Varel quietly.

"Aye, never a pleasant experience," Faren agreed, "but she will forever be known as a Warden."

Varel nodded, and then gestured to a servant. "Let them in."

A young man in armour, and an old woman in foreign clothing strode into the room. They were arguing.

"The Commander must be informed about the Deep Roads entrance. It could be their base of operation," said the young man.

"You'd have the Wardens chase a rumour, then, Captain?" said the woman as she shook her head. "And even if it proves true, unless the Pilgrim's Path is cleared by the time your army assembles they'll have nothing to eat but shoe leather."

Varel interrupted them. "Garavel, Woolsey. The Commander has had a long day." He indicated the woman. "Woolsey says some merchants escaped the darkspawn; they can reprovision you for a reasonable fee. And the Vigil is ours; take whatever weapons and armour you need. We'll be waiting when you're ready."

The armour and weapons' he'd brought with him would suffice. He turned to the armoured man. "Commander," the man said, snapping to attention.

"This is Ser Garevel, the new captain of the guard," said Varel.

Garevel stepped forward, trying to hide his nervous expression. "I have a matter to bring to your attention."

"Important?"

"Potentially urgent. The Orlesians—" He caught himself. "Wardens, I mean, began gathering information while they were here. The most promising lead they found was a wild tale a couple of hunters told."

"What did the hunters claim?"

"These hunters, Colbert and…" He blinked. "Well, the other one… claim to have stumbled across an entrance to the Deep Roads. Darkspawn all over the place, they said. And this was before the fiends appeared throughout the whole arling." He shifted his weight. "The Wardens were just about to send someone to track down Colbert."

"Those hunters may have found the darkspawn breeding ground."

"One breeding ground, at least. Colbert and his friend are in the city of Amaranthine. Probably amongst the refugees outside the city gate."

Refugees, never a good sign.

He turned to the woman. He did not recognize her accent. "Warden-Commander, a pleasure to meet you. I am Mistress Woolsey, sent by order of the First Warden at Weisshaupt. I am to act as treasurer of the arling of Amaranthine. He believed local men could not be trusted for this post."

Varel glared. "One of those 'local men' is right here, Mistress Woolsey."

"I have every confidence in the Vigil's loyalty in matter of arms. But gold corrupts even the most resolute soul," she said.

"You're from Weisshaupt?" Faren asked.

She shook her head. "Not Weksshaupt itself. I am from many places. I go where the Wardens command." She then looked at him businesslike. "Sir, the arling is on the brink of economic collapse. Trade must flow. Merchant caravans are being systematically attacked somewhere along the Pilgrim's Path. It is the only route that can reliably provision an army, feed a city, and maintain civilization."

"Is the situation really that dire?"

"A short-term thinker sees only immediate financial loss. But without essential supplies, we can expect mass starvation and anarchy. In the city of Amaranthine, there is a trader, Mervis, whose caravans have been hit particularly hard. He may know where along the road the darkspawn—or whatever they are—are striking."

Faren frowned wondering why the First Warden was so interested in this. "Why does the First Warden care about Amaranthine?"

"About the arling? He does not. But about the implications—a great deal." She shook her head. "When Warden-Commander Dryden was cast out of Ferelden generations ago, it created a dangerous precedent. Her true story and that of the Wardens' exile is one you yourself uncovered at Soldier's Peak. At great personal risk." It wasn't an experience he liked to remember. "We are now presented with another precedent—Wardens owning lands and commanding fealty from lesser nobles. If your arling succeeds, it will be an example to the other kingdoms—that Wardens are important, Blight or no."

Faren nodded with his curiosity satisfied. "That will be all, Mistress Woolsey."

"Very well, Commander."

He turned back to Varel. "To business, then," he said. He saw irritation on his seneschal's face. He'd caught the undercurrents then. "Orlais sent a dozen Wardens to the Vigil to await your arrival. Nearly all died in the attack—but Kristoff is still in the field."

"Where is this Kristoff?"

"The Orlesian Wardens were uneasy that the darkspawn weren't going to ground, with the Blight ended. Kristoff was sent to track down some leads. A fortnight ago, he left in a bustle. As best we figure, he went to the city, Amaranthine."

"Did Kristoff reveal anything of what he found?"

"He did, but not to me. The Wardens keep their own counsel."

He dismissed Garevel and Woolsey, and then turned back to Varel. "What can you tell me of Vigil's Keep?"

"We call her the Vigil. She's been around for a long spell. They say the Alamarri barbarians first built a fort here to stop Tevinter incursions from the lowlands of the Waking Sea." He shook his head. "They say the castle is built on a mountain of bones. Much death here."

He still wasn't sure what Varel roll was. "What does a seneschal do?"

Varel smiled, and bowed. "As much as you like, ser. Generally, the keep's seneschal takes care of day to day matters. If anything important arises, I'll alert you."

"I tell that doesn't happen too often, 'cause if you have noted I'm not exactly a diplomat," he said crossing his arms.

Varel chuckled. "Neither was Arl Howe, but I am very confident that you will run things a lot more smoothly than he did."

"The Vigil is going to need to be staffed. Priority is to be given to those who lost family in the attack. We will take care of our own."

Varel nodded in agreement. "As you say, Commander."

It was still raining. A young woman stood at the base of the steps. She looked at him, then looked again and snapped to attention. "Blimey, Commander of the Grey. Right." She blinked, then spoke hurriedly. "A while back, they caught a thief in the Vigil. Took four Wardens to capture him. Gave one of the Wardens a black eye, he did. Half-joking, they said he might make a good recruit."

"Where is this thief now?"

She directed him to the dungeon, and then gave him some letters. A family in need of help, and a kidnapped girl. Both were on the way to Amaranthine. He could take care of them on his way there. The thief first.

"Ah, Commander! Good thing you're here." The guard turned and gestured to the man sitting in the cell. "This one's been locked up three nights, now. Good men died while this one was protected in his cell."

"Who is he?"

"He won't give his name. All I know is he was caught poking around the estate in the middle of the night. I'd say he was just a thief, but it took four Grey Wardens to capture him. You best be careful. Whoever he is, he's no ordinary burglar, that's for sure."

Faren looked at thief with curiosity. "Leave me to talk with him."

"As you wish, Commander. I'll tell the seneschal you came. He'll want to know what you decide to do with this man."

The prisoner stood. Something about him looked vaguely familiar. "If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil." The man looked him over. "Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"

"I think you've got the wrong Warden, that sounds more like my love," said Faren as he reminisced her ferocity.

"Like I care." The man glared. "I know you best as the one who murdered my father." That… really didn't narrow it down. But the man did look vaguely familiar. The prisoner shook his head. "I am Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?"

In truth he only met Howe once and it wasn't exactly a pleasant meeting, but he wasn't the one who killed him. In fact the ones that did had a hand in his death were in Denerim.

"Wrong Warden again," said Faren crossing his arms. "Those responsible either sitting on the throne or trying to keep order in Denerim. Besides, your old man killed the Queen's family if I recall. He deserved everything he got!"

"Her family was going to sell as to the Orlesians!" Nathaniel spat.

Faren raised an eyebrow. "I suppose your father told you that?"

"How could he? Grey Wardens stole into his estate and slaughtered him before I could even talk to him. I came here…" Nathaniel sighed. "I thought I was going to try to kill you. To lay a trap for you." He shook his head. "But then I realised that you had no hand in my father's death and all I wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left."

Faren frowned. "Just how much do you know about your father?"

"If you're asking whether I knew what he was up to, the answer is no. I was squired in the Free Marches." Nathaniel folded his arms. "Look, I know you're a hero. You fought a war and you won, and to the victor go the spoils, right?" His lip curled into a sneer, greatly increasing the family resemblance. "Whatever my father did, however, shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left. It's all thanks to you. And now you get to decide my fate. Ironic, isn't it?"

Faren could sympathise with him, before he was a paragon he was treated like trash. "What will you do if I let you go?"

Nathaniel gave him a confused look. "If you let me go? I… don't know. I only came back to Ferelden a month ago." He considered a moment. "If you let me go, I'll probably come back here. You might not catch me next time."

Faren crossed his arms and gave him a firm expression. "You're not making the best case for yourself."

"I could lie, if you prefer."

"I understand we had trouble capturing you."

"I am not without skills. My time abroad wasn't spent chasing skirts and drinking wine."

"What skills are those, exactly?" Faren asked curiously.

"Hunting. Scouting. Poisons. Why?" Nathaniel frowned. "What do you care?"

He heard footsteps on the stairs. "I've decided what to do with you."

"Already? Good." Nathaniel turned and stalked back to the other side of the cell.

"I brought the seneschal for you, Commander."

Varel walked up to him and looked at the Nathaniel. "I see you've spoken to our guest. Quite the handful, isn't he? Have you decided what's to be done with him?"

"Did you know this was Nathaniel Howe?"

"A Howe?" Varel groaned. Then his eyes narrowed, and anger showed on his face. "The Howes are implacable enemies, Commander."

He looked at Nathaniel running his hand through his beard. "I wish to invoke the Right of Conscription."

"You what?" Nathaniel's jaw nearly hit the bottom of the cell.

Varel was equally surprised if not more. "I'm sorry, Commander… the Right of Conscription? On the prisoner?"

Nathaniel walked towards them. "No! Absolutely not! Hang me, first!"

Faren raised an eyebrow at him. "Did I say I was giving you a choice?"

Nathaniel shook his head incredulously. "I can't decide if this is a vote of confidence punishment."

"An… interesting decision, Commander." Varel was looking at him like he was insane. "Come with me, sir. We'll see if you survive the Joining."

Nathaniel looked at Faren for a moment, and then wordlessly followed Varel.

"From this moment forth, Nathaniel Howe, you are a Grey Warden."

Nathaniel took the cup, and inhaled. "The moment of truth…" He drank. A moment later, he fell bonelessly to the ground.

"The Howe is stronger than I expected. For better or for worse, he will live." He called in servants, and had them take Nathaniel to one of the prepared rooms.

"You disagree with the decision," said Faren.

"It is not my place do so, Commander," Varel replied.

Faren shook his head. "Varel, when it is just the two of us, I expect you to disagree with me as often and as vehemently as you wish. In fact, I'm going to make that an order."

Varel actually let out a small laugh. "Very well, if you insist… I spent years trying to protect Amaranthine, and in return, Arl Howe put me in a dungeon and sentenced me to execution. Fortunately for me, he died first."

"I can understand your reservations," said Faren placing his hands behind his back. "But I was in Nathaniel's position once before and I was only able to restore my family by joining the Grey Wardens. I like to give Nathaniel the same opportunity."

"I see your point." Varel nodded. "We will see what kind of man Nathaniel Howe is, in the days to come."

He noticed Anders was staring at an statue of Andraste and when he approached him he whispered.

"Look at that. Ha!" he said examining the statue. "Was Andraste really that much of a looker?" He then looked at Faren, who just stared at him. "Don't you think she could have been, I don't know, a barbarian?"

Faren looked at him as if he was crazy. "It's just a statue.

"Anders looked at him. "Sure, but Andraste was a real person once. Before she up and married the Maker, I mean." He then stared back at the statue. "What would she have thought of the Circle of Magi—forcing mages to fight demons or be made Tranquil?"

Faren shrugged, he wasn't the best person to be asked that question. "She was fighting mages," he pointed out.

Anders frowned. "The magisters, yes. But are all mages to be held responsible for what they did, forever?" Faren couldn't help, but agree with Anders on that point. "Seems to me that Andraste counselled men to seek their own path to the Maker. But the Chantry uses her words as a reason to collar us just for being how we are."

Faren nodded. "I completely agree.

"Anders smiled. "That's so sweet of you. I'm all a-tingle." He then shrugged as he looked back at the statue. "Oh well, she still quite a looker, for a prophet." Faren raised an eyebrow. "I'm just saying."

After that Faren decided to leave Anders to gave up at the statue. He then recognised two familiar face close by.

Herren smiled as he saw him approach them. "Ah, Warden-Commander! I represent Master Wade, the finest—"

"And bloodied coldest, I can't feel my fingers," grumbled Wade, as he tried to warn his fingers by the forge.

Herren cleaned his throat and continued, "finest armourer in Denerim, I thought, well, we thought, that you might need of an armourer."

Faren smiled at Wade. "Master Wade, I remember you. The drakescale armour, right?"

Wade sighed, reminiscing a very pleasing memory. "My one glittering moment. The highlight of my career. And now I'm stuck in Turnip Keep."

"Vigil's Keep. Vigil!" Herren snapped. He then turned apologetically to Faren. "Sorry, Warden-Commander. You know how he gets."

Faren frowned. "What brings you here?"

Herren rubbed the back of his neck.

"This is a temporary relocation. The darkspawn are most active around Amaranthine. We thought we could help."

"And I suppose the money the crown paid had nothing to do with it?" Wade grumbled.

"Sh…" Herren hissed.

Faren rolled his eyes. "My men will need armour."

"Providing arms and armour for common soldiers," Wade groaned as he wandered towards them. "Oh, the indignity! If we are going be so dreadfully plebeian, I don't suppose Amaraanthine has any proper metal? Silverite, verdium? Or are we back to bronze weapons? Stone clubs?"

"Wade has… a point," Herren admitted. "He's happiest—and fastest— when provided with a challenge. If you come across any deposits of ore, let us know."

"I don't mean to alarm you, Commander, but it is possible there are still darkspawn in the Vigil." The young woman's voice was urgent.

He raised an eyebrow. "The captain didn't mention anything about that."

"Let me explain. You know Dworkin? That mad dwarf's bombs shook the whole keep." She gave a frustrated shake of her head. "Some of the deep cellars caved in. I suspect that there are pockets of darkspawn below, trapped. In time, they may dig their way out."

Faren frowned. "I'm good at killing darkspawn, but not at digging."

She led him into the cellar. "We have men who can unearth the rubble at your command."

This far down, he could sense darkspawn moving around below. He looked over the wreckage. It wouldn't take long to clear. "Our new warden will be ready soon. Have the men start work."

"Straight away, sir."

"Oh, and Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Good instincts."

She smiled. "Thank you, sir."

He awoke to find the dwarf leaning in the corner of the room. He found it hard to believe that this thuggish figure was the commander.

Faren gestured to the equipment he'd set on the table. "These quarters are yours. I retrieved your belongings. Your knives were missing, so I took the liberty of acquiring you a new pair."

"I…" To say he was speechless would be an understatement.

"Get dressed and ready. It seems there are darkspawn still beneath the keep."

"Why did you conscript me?" He stood, and walked to the table.

"Let's just say that I know a thing or two about being a pariah," Faren shrugged. "Trust me, I had it a lot worse than you did and now you have the opportunity to salvage your family's reputation. I would suggest you take it."

He watches the dwarf left the room. For a moment, Nathaniel's hand started to go toward the bow. Then he picked up the armour, and started putting it on.

"Here we are," said the sergeant, leading them to the now cleared stairs. "The Vigil goes deep. Real deep. The hallways down here have been crumbling for years and decades." She made a vexed sound. "And that blasted Dworkin's explosives didn't do the structure any favours." She stood at the top of the stairs and looked down nervously. "This is where you come in. Who knows what's up ahead?"

"Is that…" Anders blinked. "Are those darkspawn moving around down there? Is that what we are sensing?"

"Yep, trust me you get used to it after a while," said Faren as they made down the stairs.

Nathaniel didn't say anything, but from the hard set of his mouth, it was clear he was also sensing them.

Her eyes widened. "We'll be back here."

The mabari whimpered as they approached. Her fur was caked with dirt and blood. He could feel the taint within her, still in its early stages. He stroked the hound's ears, calming it. The dog had no other chance. Perhaps he would see if she was right.

He felt the scroll tucked into her collar. "A woman named Adria has taken refuge in the lower levels, along with some others. They are trapped."

Nathaniel immediately stepped forward. "Adria? She was… she was like a mother to me. We must save her."

"You heard the man. Move," Faren ordered.

The next room held ghouls, too far gone to be saved. They were trying to get at men in the cells. He wondered who put the man then forgot all about him.

However he was slightly oppressed with his new Wardens. Of course, he did not need convincing of Oghren skills. He kept a partial eye on Nathaniel as they fought. The man was an excellent shot with a bow, maybe you're almost as good as Theron. Anders… had potential.

"Oh, thank the Maker! Please let us out!"

"Go. Head up the stairs to safety."

They kept on moving until they reach the very bottom of the cellars and there stood a woman. He could already feel the taint with in her and knew it was far too late to save.

"No. No, Adria…" Nathaniel was shaking his head. "We have to help her. There must be some way… Adria?"

She opened her mouth far wider than a human could have managed, and roared.

The guardswoman gave them an awestruck look as she entered behind them. "You murdered a slew of darkspawn there. I… well, you hear the stories about you and the Wardens." Her face lit up. "But to see it firsthand…"

"It's what we do," he said, glancing at his companions. Nathaniel had masterfully turned his face into an expressionless mask, but Oghren and Anders on the other hand were looking very pleased with themselves.

"Well, I'm impressed," she said. She shook her head, and her voice became more businesslike. "Anyway, it looks like the explosives caved this section in." She gestured to a dwarf behind her. "I brought along Master Voldrik—"

Voldrik snorted. "So this is how you humans ply your stonecraft." He shook his head and kicked at the wall. "Disgraceful, that is. What, this would barely last a few centuries." He examined the walls. "I wager these passages may go far enough to connect to the Deep Roads."

"We need to seal this section off," said Faren.

"We've got my brother's bombs—but no, there's too many passages to block." He frowned. "This is a grave matter. If we don't shut these tunnels, the darkspawn can attack from below again."

"Andraste's blood, there are basement entrances throughout the keep. There's no way to defend against that," said the sergeant staring at the collapse, her expression a bit frightened.

"Then we follow the tunnels and hope to find a single point to block off. Never you fear, lass," Voldrik assured and patted Faren on the shoulder. "With the Warden's muscle and my stonecraft, we'll find a way."

"Let me know as soon as you clear the passage," Faren told her.

"We'll need some time," she told him. "But as soon as we clear it, we'll let you know."

Voldrik accompanied them back to the surface. "So this is human construction, is it?" He shook his head. "My brother said you'd need a stonemason, but he didn't know the half of it."

"I should welcome you to the Vigil."

"You are too kind." He gestured. "The darkspawn did a number on this keep of yours. But I suspect it was crumbling well before they showed up. Your seneschal gave me some fancy decree promising men and monies to fix the Vigil, but it's a paltry sum." He grimaced. "I suppose it would be sufficient to reconstruct the walls to human standards. But who'd want that?"

Faren looked at him. "I might regret this. What would it take to rebuild it right?"

Voldrik stopped dead in his tracks. He raised an eyebrow, then considered the question for several minutes. "I'm not certain of the character of stone in these parts, but we'd need more men for certain." He frowned. "Proper skilled men, not some starving dusters, right? Which all boils down to coin, really."

"I can spare eighty sovereigns. This had better be worth it," he said. It was a lot of hard work stealing most of that money, mostly against the nobles who didn't support them during the Landsmeet

The dwarf smiled broadly. "It will be, Warden. Good luck to anyone who tries to breach these walls. Ha!"

"That's what I like to hear," Faren smiled.